Pizza Again
by M.K. Teirney
Summary: AU, set in the summer after BotL. Annabeth watches, alone, as Percy moves on to the next girl, the LAST girl anyone ever expected him to be with. Any chance of recovery...? It's a little dark! Be warned.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This popped into my head out of nowhere today, which always makes me excited to start typing... It's narrated by Annabeth, by the way, if that wasn't clear. Warning for dark themes, bit of sour language, loads of AU, etc. I have an idea for where the story might go after this, but it may just stay a one-off - I seriously did not expect it to end the way it does! Poor characters. Do you all hate it? **Am I just the worst?** Does anyone maybe want more...? **

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><p>Pizza again. <em>Always <em>pizza. It's like, the fifth time this week.

I guess there's a pretty good reason - everyone loves pizza, including me. I have no idea how Camp Half-Blood places its orders, because the nearest pizzeria is at least fifteen miles away, but the pizza always gets delivered warm and greasy and cheesy, just like pizza should be. I fold my slice over and bring the wonderful bundle up to my mouth -

But that's when I see him wander down into the ring of tables, his hand slipping into the tiny fingers of the slim girl at his side. She pulls on his sleeve and he ducks his head down next to her - when had he gotten so much taller than her? - listening to something she's saying right in his ear. His face lights up with that unbelievable smile, and her big dark eyes go wide as they begin to giggle. A private joke. They're trying to look so natural, but I knew they both know that everyone in the circle of tables is watching them.

Percy and Silena. It was all anyone at camp could talking about.

It made me sick.

It had started about a week after Charlie Beckendorf announced that Silena was "too much goddamn drama." Apparently it was "serious" this time. Charlie had sulked in his forge with his brothers; Silena had curled up on the dock, looking out at the lake, her eyes red, refusing to talk to anyone. Like everyone else, I'd rolled my eyes and figured this was just another one of their endless on-again-off-agains. I'd gossiped about it with Clarisse for about two seconds before she went back to training, and I went back to Daedalus's laptop. Life went on as normal.

Except for Percy, who went down to the lake.

I didn't find that out until later, because I'd been busy not speaking to him, because he was busy not speaking to me, because he had been very busy "speaking" to Rachel Dare. Well, that's what I had _thought_ - it turned out he and Rachel had had a bit of a spat too, which I found out from a very uncomfortable Grover only yesterday. About a month ago, according to Grover, Rachel had insisted that going out with Percy was "hampering her imagist vision" and she needed some time off to "re-grow her artistic expressionism from the inside out." Whatever that meant.

I really hate that girl sometimes.

But I guess that had left Percy alone, for about a month. All alone, Grover reported, a little guiltily - he himself had been wrapped up (_literally_) in Juniper at the same time, and so he'd been a little distracted (understandably). I hadn't pressed him for details.

I felt pretty guilty about it myself. Ever since the end of the labyrinth, and the beginning of "Percy and Rachel," things had been confusing and awkward between Percy and me. I should have gotten over it - I knew he needed _someone_, what with the end of the summer and his birthday and the massive showdown with Luke and Kronos looming somewhere around the corner. I should have just talked to him - but every time I started to, my blood would start pumping harder until I could barely see straight. And then he would bring up Rachel, or I would bring up Luke, and either way one or both of us would get angry and storm off.

Some best-friendship.

And now it isn't even Rachel anymore, it's tiny Silena, with her tiny skirts and tiny hips and big, big ... eyelashes. And big hair. And a few other things that are big. For the life of me, I can't imagine what on earth she and Percy have in common, that they can talk about together - but maybe they don't actually do a lot of talking, actually. An unpleasant thought.

I look down. Hot grease is spilling over my clenched fingers. I have thoroughly squished the pizza in my hand. Not really worth eating now, but I take another bite anyway, so that I can avoid looking over at Poseidon's table, where Silena is perched on Percy's knee, pushing her fingers through his hair. She's blushing. He smiles at her, then his eyes flit over toward my table. I take another huge bite and glanced at my tablemates, trying to avoid his eyes.

Unfortunately, I can't avoid the dozen sets of eyes at the table around me, all of them watching me. Appraising me. One or two giving me looks of sympathy, or pity really. I feel my blood pressure rise, and not because of the pizza.

"_What_ are you looking at?"

They all snap their eyes back to their own plates, stalled conversations resuming half-heartedly.

I wipe a thin layer of sweat from my forehead - this August has been unusually, humidly warm, and tonight is no exception. I glance at the sky - soft purple twilight. It's already late then, at least 9:00. I shove the last of the pizza into my mouth, picking up a fallen pepperoni from the side of my plate and jamming it in there too.

Pushing myself away from the table and chewing rapidly, I rise and stride past the campfire, where campers are beginning to gather around the flames, singing warbly tunes about fallen Gods and drunken satyrs. I continue past them and up to the Big House. I know it's always empty at this time of night. Empty is good. I need empty right now.

How did things get like this? Percy and Silena - the idea was ludicrous. That's what I would've said a few months ago, if you'd asked me back in the Labyrinth, or back on Mount Tamalpais, or back in the Sea of Monsters. Assuming we weren't about to be eaten by some nasty creep, I would have laughed hysterically, tugged on Percy's shoulder and told him what I was laughing about, and we would've both doubled over laughing until tears came down our cheeks. I bet we would have made it an inside joke, started making kissy faces at each other when we saw her. Maybe written an ode or two, or commissioned Apollo to do it for us.

Percy and Silena - yeah right. When pigs fly. When Hades freezes over. When Dionysus starts handing out Christmas candy.

But there they are every day now, Percy and Silena, for everyone to see. And I can't stop thinking about it.

I lock the bathroom door behind me, sliding down the wall and pressing my hands to my forehead. How _did_ things get like this? What if I hadn't yelled at him about Rachel? What if I had followed him down to the lake, just once, followed him even when he yelled at me that he needed to be alone?

Or what if I just had longer eyelashes, would that have done it?

I snort a little bit. So stupid. Everyone thinks that the children of Athena are 'blessed with endless wisdom' or something. Let me tell you, we can be every bit as stupid as any other demi-god. Me more than anyone.

I run my hands over my stomach, my hips, my annoyingly-jiggly love-handles. I've never had love-handles until this summer. I've been so busy with Daedulus's laptop that I've totally neglected training. Well, and I didn't want to chance meeting Percy down in the ring, so I've stayed in my cabin as much as possible. Mostly just hiding there, I guess, working on anything to distract myself, but really not doing much at all. Fun summer: sitting around, pretending to work, obsessing about not thinking about Percy. And eating all that awful pizza.

...What if it _was_ the eyelashes, though? Or the hips? The tiny fingers? Was _that_ why he couldn't stand the sight of me anymore?

I got to my feet and began to go through the familiar motions. Lift the toilet seat. Turn on the shower, just in case someone walks by. Pace a moment, breathe shallow.

Silena and Percy. It was my fault, wasn't it? I'd left him alone; it was only natural that he'd look for someone else to be with. Someone nicer. Someone better.

He didn't need someone like me.

Kind of like my dad, actually. My dad had never needed me around. He'd gotten bored of me too, hadn't he?

And Luke, too. Even Luke had never needed me.

I closed my eyes and plunged my fingers down my throat.


	2. Chapter 2

PERCY CAM

"So last night we're out by the lake, right, making out a little bit, and I'll spare you the more intimate details – "

"Thank the Gods," Grover interjects, as he sends the basketball swooshing through the net.

"But we've been going at it a while, and we're both kinda getting into it, right, and she's got her eyes closed and her face is all flushed, like really – _passionately_, you know – "

This choice of words gets a choke of laughter out of Grover, so I shove him in the shoulder and skip past the rest of the steamy details.

"And I'm feeling pretty good too, we're both really having a good time, when all the sudden she leans in next to my ear and goes _Oh Charlie, Charlie_ –"

This sends Grover into a fit of chortling hysterics as he leans over to retrieve the ball. Grinning, I cross my hands over my head and pace around the court waiting for him to recover. There are beads of perspiration sliding down my forehead; it's barely 7:30 in the morning, but it's already warm enough to break a sweat just shooting hoops.

"So what did you say?" Grover asks me finally, breathing hard and pressing a hand to his chest as he leans against the low wall separating the back of the basketball court from the path to the archery range.

"Well, at first I wasn't sure _what_ to say, but then we just looked at each other, and I started laughing and so did she…"

I lob the ball toward the net. It goes wide, but I don't care. Grover leans over to pick it up as I continue. "So then she started sort of crying and laughing at the same time, which was kind of funny to watch, because she got this huge case of hiccups and she kept blowing her nose on her sleeve and saying she was sorry and could we still be friends and all."

"And are you?"

"Yeah. Sure. Technically we haven't even broken up yet," I shrug, dribbling the ball twice before shooting. It bounces off the rim. "We've got a date this weekend still. We're going to a club in the city because she wants me to meet some friends of hers."

Grover shakes his head at me, passing me the ball again. "Another day, another crazy ex-girlfriend."

"No, that's what I'm saying. She's not actually my girlfriend." My shot rebounds off the backboard and slides off the rim without going in. "Or my ex. Or crazy. Well, she's a little crazy."

"Crazy, huh?" Grover grins at me and wiggles his eyebrows, and I can't help myself.

"She does this thing, with her tongue…"

"Woah, watch out!" Grover shouts.

I duck as a basketball goes flying past my head at about five hundred miles per hour. I look over at the court next to ours, where Beckendorf and one of his brothers, Damon, have just arrived. Beckendorf fixes me with a look of steely violence as Damon runs after their ball, apologizing over his shoulder like _he_ was the one who just tried to take my head off with a piece of sporting equipment. I keep my eyes fixed on Beckendorf, though, who doesn't say a word. He just brings a finger to his throat and makes a swift horizontal slicing motion.

"Ah..." Grover says, collecting our ball and biting back a laugh. "Enough basketball?"

"Uh, yeah," I reply, wetting my lips nervously.

As we're heading down the path to morning announcements, Grover nudges my elbow. "So, who's next then, if you're done breaking Silena's heart, and Rachel's?"

This is the nice thing about Grover: I get dumped twice in a row for really stupid reasons both times, and he just says _I'm_ breaking hearts. I grin and shrug. "I dunno. Like you said, too many crazy girls. Maybe it's time I took a break."

"...And maybe you could make up with Annabeth?"

This is the annoying thing about Grover. He even _knows _it's annoying, because of our empathy link. We've worked out a pretty good system for pushing each other out of the shared brain when privacy calls – when I'm with Rachel or Silena, for example, or if he's out with Juniper – trust me, I don't need to see that. All those intertwining branches and horns. The system works great for closing down the images, but I can still reach out and sense what he's feeling at any given moment, and he's even better at doing the same to me. Actually, he's doing it right now. I scowl at him.

"Annabeth and I are not fighting!" I whine, crossing my arms, going for the firmly authoritative look.

"_Really_?" Grover abruptly stops walking and stands in place, dribbling the basketball through his hooves a couple times. "Because I'm pretty sure that if you yell at each other every time you talk to each other, that counts as fighting."

I shoot another huffy sigh at him, which he returns, but with an annoyingly patient look on his face. It's his 'better tell me everything, or I'll tell everyone you still have occasional nightmares about that one episode of Power Rangers' face. There's nothing to do but sigh again.

"I'm not _trying _to yell at her or pick fights. It's just that she always … She's got this habit of… just _saying_ things…" I trail off, not sure how to explain.

Grover cocks an eyebrow. "Wow. Sounds really, really terrible."

"Shut up."

"Seriously, Perce. I haven't seen you two hang out together since, like, May or June, and whenever I suggest the three of us do something, you guys look at me like you're the divorced parents and I'm the kid who hasn't quite figured out that Mommy and Daddy aren't getting back together…"

I roll my eyes and steal the basketball away from him. "Well, Mommy and Daddy _aren't_ getting back together if Mommy keeps trying to bite Daddy's head off when Daddy's never done anything wrong."

"Never?"

"No. Daddy's totally perfect. And anyway, Junior, we never see _you_ anymore now that Juniper's got her branches all over you. Let's talk about that, huh?"

His face goes pink and he trots off real quick towards the Big House, where Chiron is emerging onto the porch, about to read out the morning announcements. I shake my head and follow Grover up the path. Campers are all filling in around the porch, some still rubbing sleep from their eyes (Apollo and Demeter), others sharpening weapons (Ares) or lazily pick-pocketing cell phones and ipods from inattentive comrades (Hermes, naturally, from the Hephaestus and Aphrodite kids, who tend to have the shiniest gadgets).

Chiron starts reading out which cabin is at which activity for the rest of the day. This always takes about six hundred years. Besides listening for Poseidon Cabin instructions, I only ever listen to where three people will be: Grover, Annabeth, and (for reasons of my own personal safety) Clarisse. Satyrs and fauns get the day off from chores, in preparation for Earth Day Part Two tomorrow (we didn't celebrate it very well the first time, seeing as how there was a massive labyrinth battle going on). Athena Cabin is going to be at the rock wall all morning. Ares Cabin will be weeding the edge of the forest with the Demeter kids, which in my opinion will be an excellent use of Clarisse's aggressive energies. Miracle of Miracles, Poseidon Cabin gets a free day! Grover will be making oatmeal-raisin-and-button cookies all morning, so I'll probably just hang around the kitchens with him.

I sidle up to Grover, poking my face next to his ear as Chiron continues with the other cabin's announcements.

"Come on, dude. No late night interludes between you and Tree Woman? No accidentally calling you by another satyr's name?"

"Shut up!" Grover hisses and grins, going even more pink than before.

"Or does she call you a plant name? Strong Wood? Big Oak?"

He elbows me in the stomach, but I shove him away and tug the basketball out of his hands.

Three minutes of mostly-silent wrestling later, Grover's got his basketball back and a big smug smile on his face. I've got a disgruntled frown on mine. Chiron has given us about fifteen 'rowdiness is not permitted this early in the morning' looks, but amazingly enough he still hasn't run out of announcements.

"...Lastly, the White Glove award. This week's cleanest cabin is – ahem, drumroll –" Chiron pauses dramatically, "the Poseidon cabin –"

"Huh, what?" Grover stumbles. Several people around us ask the same question.

"Oh, WHAT!" I yell as soon as I process what Chiron just said, raising both fists over my head as Grover slaps me on the back. Victory is sweet. The rest of the camp is groaning and booing, not like I care. Silena, who's standing on the porch next to Chiron, doesn't even look my way, but she's rubbing her lips softly and she's got a little twinkle in her eye. Hey kids, if you clean really, really nicely and give the White Glove inspector a really, really good time the night before, maybe someday you'll win too. Actually, you only have to do one of those things.

"Everyone is dismissed for breakfast – " Chiron concludes.

"But he doesn't even know where we keep the vacuum!" screams a tiny Demeter kid. I smirk as I look over and catch Clarisse's eye – she gives me a big 'Whatever' W with her fingers. It's so typically Clarisse that the next thing I do is automatically look for Annabeth in the crowd, so we can laugh at Clarisses's winner attitude together, but I don't see Annabeth with her campers. Actually, I don't see her anywhere.

Where is she these days? I _never_ see her.

I swallow, grin slowly fading. The distance that has crept in between Annabeth and me over the summer doesn't change the fact that she's still the best friend I've ever had. Or my best friend with ten toes, anyway. (I like to split the best friends category into those with feet and those with hooves, to prevent unnecessary jealous incidents). All the things we've been through together in the last three years – almost four, though I'd prefer not to dwell on that, as it reminds me of my looming birthday – after all that stuff, I've just gotten used to trusting her more than anyone else. And the fact that I can't even remember the last time I _saw _her…

Well, it takes a bit of the fun out of winning, but not all of it.

All the sudden, my stomach growls like truck, reminding me that I've just been staring around the camp while everyone else darts off to get their food, but Chiron arrives at my side before I can even shift my weight. He's pretty speedy in horse form.

"Jackson, you're expected at the Council of the Gods tonight at 8:00 o'clock sharp, got that?"

"Ugh – " I groan loudly. Chiron gives me a warning look.

"I mean, uh, yeah. Got it."

Chiron just gives me the look again, his big brown eyes very somber. I sigh and settle in for the lecture.

"This Council is being convened for you in _particular,_ Percy, to discuss the most important birthday of your life, so you mustn't be late or underprepared – none of the Gods will approve of that. Annabeth will go with you, to offer her report of the holes in camp defenses that became obvious during last spring's Labyrinth Battle…"

It was last night at dinner, I realize with a start. That's the last time I saw her. I just got a glimpse of her before she stormed off in a huff for no apparent reason. I remember watching her blonde curls bouncing around on her shoulders, the way they always do when she's so upset or frustrated that she's driven to speed-walking. (This happens more often than you might expect).

"…not a matter of fun and games anymore. The key will be organizing the camp around _you_ as a hero, as a leader, and winning the favor of _all_ of the major Gods and Goddesses. After that, we'll coordinate strategies, which of course Annabeth will assist you with…"

…I saw her leave, and then I spent the rest of the evening with Silena. In retrospect, maybe I should have at least checked in with Annabeth to see what was bothering her. But like I told Grover, Mommy keeps trying to bite Daddy's head off, with her scary ability to pinpoint all of Daddy's various failings in life, and her impatience with Daddy's perfectly good excuses, and her vicious sharky teeth. It's basic self-preservation, letting her storm off when she's like that.

Chiron looks like he's cottoning on to my vacant expression and polite bobble-heading. I tune back in.

"…Athena and Ares already on your bad side, and the other minor gods lined up against you, you'll need to be as charming as you can possibly be, is that understood?"  
>I bobble-head yes. "Sure. Absolutely."<p>

"Because having the Gods stand united behind us is for the good of the whole camp, you understand – when Kronos's armies arrive –"  
>I lay a hand on his shoulder. "Perseus Charming Jackson. I got this, ok?"<p>

He gives me a puzzled look, but then the warning bell rings from the porch, which means half the food is already gone, and you'd better get to the tables quick before the Ares cabin second-helpings their way through your portion. I will almost certainly die of starvation if I don't get breakfast, so I flash Chiron my charmingest smile and swivel off. He looks even more puzzled at this, even a downright alarmed. Maybe I should practice that charming smile a few more times…

"8:00 o'clock, Jackson –"

"I got it!" I call over my shoulder, squinting into the sunlight. Council of the Gods or no, it's still a beautiful morning, birds twittering in the background and lazy clouds keeping things humid. The first day of a typical Long Island August. So what if the most important birthday of your life, the one that your life and your friends' lives and basically the fate of the entire world are all riding on, is only three weeks away (actually more like two and half)? Who cares if the pillars of Western Civilization may crumble at your still-twitching feet when you inevitably get murdered by a psychotic and all-powerful Master of all Time who wields a gigantic death sword, commands an army of mutant underworld monsters, and walks around disguised as your old camp counselor? No big deal. It's still a nice day out.

I take a deep breath. Breakfast first, saving the world later.

"Oh, like Charming is your middle name," Chiron shouts after me. "I get it."

I turn back to roll my eyes at him, in the most charming way possible of course.

That's when the explosion erupts from the doors of the Big House.

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><p>AN: Hey beautiful readers! Yes! Yes, I did forget about this story! But the good thing is I remembered it again. I'm planning weekly updates from now on (already got most of the story written or planned), kind of alternating between Annabeth and Percy. It's AU replacing the fifth book in the series, it's just for fun, and it's definitely rated PG-13, for innuendo, violence, and (my personal favorite) salty language! Also sort of a darker topic, as revealed in the end of the last chapter - more on that later, of course. If you hate it, please spam me, if you need more frequent updates, please spam me, if you just want to shoot the breeze, please spam me. Happy weekend!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

"JACKSON!"

And I thought this morning couldn't get better.

Mr. D explodes out the front doors and comes tearing toward me at top speed, the whole porch shaking with his stomps. Chiron neighs nervously and excuses himself to check on some made-up camper in the medical cabin. I know for a fact that there is no such person as Gruby McGruber at this camp, and even if there were, he probably wouldn't have terminal scurvy.

No time to trace Chiron's exit though, as Mr D has replaced him within about half a second. I give him my super charming grin.

"Mr D, you called me –"

"JAKERSON, you little twerp, you just earned me another year and a half of drying out duty, and you earned yourself a month's work of full-time kitchen duty, and I'm only making it that short because you'll be kicking the bucket within the next three weeks anyway –" he barrels right over, jabbing me in the chest several times with an angry forefinger. "If I wasn't trying to get a favor out of your old man, I'd lay into you right now, so hard you'd skid right into a steaming pile of Cerberus's own –"

"I don't understand!" I interrupt, putting my hand over my heart to protect the target. "Whatdid _I_ do?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer, you son of a Sea God –"

"Well how do you know it was me?"

"I have my Godly Ways," Mr. D declares slowly and menacingly, raising his eyebrows higher with each word. I raise mine right back, but he ignores this. "And anyway, next time you go pranking, don't leave the bottle on the counter, and don't leave your prescription on the bottle."

I groan and slap my forehead.

"Uh, well, then _obviously_ it wasn't me, because only an _idiot_ would leave that kind of evidence behind –"

"Not helping your argument –"

"Mr D, I've been framed, you have to believe me –" I lick my lips, looking for a way to spin this.

"Not with a ten foot pole and a winning lottery ticket, Jefferson."

"What does that even mean?"

"Kitchen, _NOW_."

Well, never mind hanging out with Grover all morning.

Mr D frogmarches me to the back corner of the massive kitchen in the Big House, and now we're both staring at the massive pile of scone trays and omelet pans from breakfast. All because I may have possibly been the teeniest bit involved with lacing Mr. D's bedside glass of water with cough syrup. It's like only 1% alcohol or something, so I'm not sure what the big deal is. And it was all Connor Stoll's fault anyway. Another little bit of advice, kids: when you're playing truth or dare with the Hermes cabin, always pick truth.

Still, this could go ok for me once the tap is running. The suds are all frothy on the burnished copper pans… All I have to do is get the water to do the work for me…  
>That's when Mr. D lays a tight grip on my shoulder and leans uncomfortably close to my ear.<p>

"If you so much as manipulate the mucus in your snot-holes, I will personally see to it that you wind up doing an unending pile of dishes with Sisyphus in the next life. Got that?"

"I _got_ it," I scowl, grabbing a sponge.

"Good. Because I'll be shocked if you finish this pile before lunch, and believe me, you don't want to shock me today, you little hobgoblin. Enjoy your elbow greasing."

I bang the soup pot I'm holding on the counter as Mr. D saunters away.

"Yeah, but what is the point of having a super awesome God Progeny summer camp if it doesn't even come with a dishwasher?!" I yell at his back.

He doesn't even look around, just gives me the finger and continues walking.

"Goddamn you…" I growl, just as Annabeth pokes her head into the room. "Oh, not you, sorry…"

I can feel my face going red, so I return my attention to the dishes and start scrubbing harder than ever. Annabeth gives me a look before picking a brownie from the dozens of trays that the satyrs baked last night.

"Having fun?" she says.

"Time of my life," I snarl, my eyes returning to the soup pot.

Annabeth doesn't say anything more for a minute. I look over at her while I scrub, but she doesn't seem to notice. She takes two steps into the kitchen, then her mouth twists awkwardly, then she returns to her spot near the door, leaning her hips against the counter with the brownies.

I furrow my brow – it's not usually like her to be uncertain, or hesitate –but she crosses her arms and leans away, talking more to the brownies than to me.

"Congratulations, by the way," she says, out of the blue. I shoot her a look.

"On what? Number One Pot Scrubber?"

"The White Glove," she snaps, a weird expression on her face.

"Oh yeah. Thanks."

"I just came to remind you about –"

"The Council tonight, I know," I snap right back. "I'm all set, Chiron gave me the lecture already, so if that's all you had to say – "

Oops, did that sounded a little snickety? I shoot her an apologetic glance and start rambling.

"Um, I mean, you can lecture me too if you want, but I didn't mean that you _were_ going to lecture me, just that I have been lectured already, so far, so my lecturing quota…so, uh, yeah."

_What was THAT, Percy_? Annabeth seems to be thinking the same thing, judging by the little half-smile on her lips.

"Ok then," is all she says.

"How do you even know about the White Glove anyway? You weren't there –"

"How do _you _know I wasn't there?" she fires right back, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Because –" _because I wanted you to be there and you weren't? Like usual?_ I bite my lip and swallow it down, thinking of what Grover said this earlier this morning about the yelling and fighting in our little 'family.' It's a small miracle that we've managed two minutes of basic semi-civility already. "Because – because because."

"Oh yeah?" she says, smirking.

"Yeah. Because because because."

This almost gets a real smile out of her. We could almost be twelve years old again, me doing or saying idiotic things to get her to laugh, and her rolling her eyes and wrinkling her nose like she always does. Don't ask me why, but for some reason, I just always end up staring at her a little longer than is polite when her nose is wrinkled up like that.

There's about nine seconds of awkward in-between silence where we both just look at each other, wondering what the other's game plan is. At least, that's what I'm thinking she's wondering. I'm just wondering when game plans became necessary between us at all. Probably when the yelling started. Which was not my fault, by the way.

I turn my back on the dishes and lean against the counter.

"Um – so, how are things?" I ask.

"Fine," she starts, picking a second brownie from the sheet. "You?"

This is good, right? No yelling yet.

"Well, Mr. D called me a hobgoblin a minute ago."

"Yeah, I heard."

Annabeth clears her throat. I look at the floor, then up at the ceiling, then back at Annabeth.

There's about seven more seconds of awkward silence where neither of us say or do anything, and then I go back to the dishes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth reach for another brownie.

"Don't eat those ones!" I yelp.

She yanks her hand back and gives me a questioning look.

"That pan is Grover's special brownies," I explain.

Both her eyebrows shoot skyward.

"Uh, no, not that kind of special," I start to smile. "They've got candied shoelace in them –"

"Urgh," she squeaks, dropping the brownie. "Pass."  
>"Thought you might," I smirk. Just for a moment, it's almost like it was between us, before, so I press on. "How come I haven't seen you around lately, anyway?"<p>

"Mmm," she shrugs, then says bluntly, "Grover thinks we're avoiding each other."

"I know," I sigh. "He gave me the talk this morning. But I wasn't avoiding –

The awkward truth is I've been busy avoiding thinking about my birthday, which I know she's going to ask me about. If I had to answer her honestly, I'd tell her I'm stark terrified. If we _were_ the old Annabeth and Percy team, I'd have no problem admitting this to her. At the moment, though –

Well, Annabeth is so composed and competent these days. Always had all the ducks in a row, that sort of thing, but this summer more than ever I feel like she's too mature for me. Sometimes I just think that _I'd_ like to be the strong one, and take care of her, for once –

I'm still staring at her as she's wrinkling her nose again. Even when she's doing it because she's huffy, it's kind of cute. But she catches me staring and leans away. She's still waiting for an answer, I realize.

"I've just been – busy with – "

"Well I've been busy too," she sweeps, all business again. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Oh. Ok." I drop my gaze. It lands on the mountain of dirty dishes. I've only finished three pans, and the harpies have just clattered in and deposited about twelve hundred more. I groan. "Hey, I don't suppose you could help with any of this?"

"No." She doesn't even bother with an apologetic glance, just rubs her mouth with one hand and stares at the brownie tray for one more second before spinning on her heel. "See you later."

I'd like to have had some clever comeback for this, or maybe another dumb joke, anything to harass her into at least sitting around the kitchen while I work, just so I have some company. But it's too late now; she's through the doorway and down the hall without a backward glance.

"Thanks, Annabeth," I mutter. I turn to the pans. "Well, I've got plenty of you guys to talk to, at least. Anyone got a funny story? ... heard any good jokes lately? Maybe a bracing philosophical insight to share?"

Talking to kitchenware. Never a good sign. I sigh and grab the scrubber brush.

"I've got a funny one from last night…"


	4. Chapter 4

ANNABETH'S VIEW.

It was supposed to be a very simple trip. Get on the LIRR, get off at Penn Station, and walk a few blocks to the Empire State building. Percy and I had left hours before we were supposed to be at the Council of the Gods, just to make sure we'd have some time to go over the presentation we'd planned for the Council (my idea), and stop at Grey's Papaya for hot dogs (Percy's idea).

Like I said, it was supposed to be simple.

I just forgot that somewhere in or on the entity that is Percy Jackson, there's a big neon sign that only monsters of the underworld can read, a sign that says Please Try To Kill Me As Often As Possible, Probably In A Gruesome Manner.

As we exit Penn Station, I start rehearsing in my head on the way. Kronos is on the way, with his army. We need all the major gods and goddesses to align behind Camp Half-Blood with Percy as the main camp leader, since he's the Big Hero of the Prophecy. Any help you can give us...

This is mostly wishful thinking, I know. It'll take quite a bit of maneuvering to get them _all_ on our side, especially since most of Zeus's court tends to treat Camp Half-Blood like the kids there are cute little stuffed animals. Or just ignore us altogether.

We've already got Poseidon, obviously, and we can usually count on Athena for help, although not always. Ares will back us so long as things stay reasonably violent. Zeus and Hera will be the hardest to win over, given our history with them in the last few years, but we don't stand a chance if either of them oppose us. I start to tick the others off on my fingers – Artemis, Apollo, both on our side. Hephaestus, Demeter, both on the fence. Aphrodite –

Really not sure about Aphrodite.

Percy keeps trying to make conversation, even though I'm trying to send the 'Busy Thinking' signal.

"Kind of cold for August, huh?"

"Mm," I say. We'll never get Dionysus, or Hades – not with Percy as the mascot –

"Good thing you brought your coat."

"Mm."

Who am I forgetting? I know there's someone else –

"Annabeth? Hey –"

Hermes, of course, but he'll be one of the trickiest to play –

But in addition to forgetting Hermes, I also forgot the number one rule of visiting New York, which is: don't get hit by a car (the number two rule is don't get hit by a bus; buses hurt more, but pay less in insurance). Thankfully I didn't _actually_ get hit by the taxi that came screaming past, horn blaring, but that was mostly due to Percy grabbing my elbow and pulling me back onto the sidewalk.

"Annabeth!"

I blinked and shook my head as my eyes came back into focus. "Sorry. I was just thinking…"

"I can see that," he grinned, edging around the bustling crowd of pedestrians. "You could at least have the decency to scream in terror though, maybe have a short fainting spell."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, like Lois Lane. Or whoever Batman's girlfriend is."

I rolled my eyes at him. "We daughters of Athena are made of sterner stuff than – " I get a bitter taste in my mouth " – than those _comic books_ girls."

(I nearly said "those Aphrodite girls", because rumor has it that Joe Shuster and Jeremy Siegel were both under Aphrodite's spell at the time they were penning the Golden Age comics, due to a fateful run-in at a bar with a pin-up girl, a cop in disguise, and a very form-fitting dress. I switched tracks at the last second, when I remembered the whole Percy dating Silena thing)

"Well, nothing like a near-death experience with a yellow cab to get the adrenaline pumping, anyway," Percy said. He seemed to be in much better spirits than earlier in the day. He hadn't said much on the ride in, but I could tell he was trying to put a good face on for his dad and the other gods. And coming back to Manhattan always made him more cheerful.

"You know," I said, allowing myself to lighten up a little too, "if you were a superhero, I don't think you'd be Superman _or_ Batman."

"Why not? I'm from New York, so are they –"

"Superman is from Metropolis. And Batman is from Gotham."

"Same thing."

"No it isn't. Didn't you ever see the movies?"

"Uh… Which one was the one with Kirsten Dunst? As a red head."

Always with the red heads.

"That was Spiderman, Mr. Seaweed," I roll my eyes again, adding, "anyway, none of them have any of the same powers as you."

"Except the power of being awesome, you mean."

"The only superhero with water powers is Aquaman. Do you want to be Aquaman?"

"No! I am _not_ going to be Aquaman!" he huffed, then twirled pen-Riptide through his fingers. "What about Captain America? I could be Captain America –"

"Captain America doesn't have a sword, just the mighty shield –"

"Well, I _used_ to have one of those –"

"Not the same," I tut, shaking my head. "He used his for defense as much as offense, and there's a big difference between – "

And then I scream at the top of my lungs.

Percy shoves me toward a building as a razor-sharp claw goes whistling through the air where my neck used to be. He whips out Riptide, hacking off the hand of the claw's owner, a seven-foot tall and very scaly Telekhine. The Telekhine immediately starts to yap – actually it sounds a lot like the taxi that nearly hit me earlier –

And then the street is full of Telekhines.

Pedestrians get shoved aside as at least a dozen Telekhines come pouring from the nearest doorway. They're all pointing and yapping, except the nearest ones, who are slashing at us with all their might.

I draw my knife from my boot, but before I have a good grip on it, one of the Telekhines barrels into my shoulder, and the knife goes clattering onto the sidewalk. I lunge to recover it, spinning as soon as I do to stick the knife into the neck of the Telekhine that attacked me. It yaps one more time before crumbling to dust.

I pivot back to where Percy is facing off with four or five Telekhines, dancing away from them as he pulls on his jacket – is now the time? – and while he does, I duck almost all the way to the sidewalk, scrambling into a sideways roll at the last second to avoid getting slashed in the face.

I look up – we're only a block or two from the Empire State, but the way forward is now crawling with Telekhines. The other people on the street are screaming something about truants and gangs; I see a girl recording the fight on her cell phone.

"We'll never get through –" I start, but Percy grabs my elbow with his free hand.

"The subway –" he manages, jerking his head back the way we came.

Percy heaves Riptide in a wide arc, slicing through three Telekhines in a row, who all crumble to dust, but there are plenty more on the way. I block with my elbow as one of them swipes at Percy's sword arm. The Telekhine yaps at me, but I stab him in the head and he's gone.

We take off running, Percy in the lead, and reach the subway entrance well ahead of the Telekhines. They're still on our tail though, judging by the barking noises coming from the street overhead –

"Hurry, there's a train –"

Percy jumps four stairs to the platform entrance and slides through the gate.

"Percy!" I yelp as he heads toward the train. I'm stuck at the turnstile, frantically rummaging through my purse looking for the Metrocard I stashed somewhere or other. He doubles back and passes me his card through the bars with an "_Are you kidding me"_ that I think I probably deserve. I get through the turnstile just as the first Telekhine gets down the stairs, and as we sprint for the train, the Telekhine rams against the gate, barking its head off.

I smirk over my shoulder. They may be evil seadog demons who will stop at nothing in their quest to take our heads off, but they've still got to pay the fare if they want to ride.

Percy and I practically fly down the second set of stairs, and he pulls me toward the very end of the tunnel, where the subway car is slowing to a stop. When we reach the end of the tunnel, we launch ourselves inside the car, and Percy presses his hands to his knees, gasping for breath. I pretty much collapse into the nearest chair, grateful that we're still well shy of rush hour. The handful of other people on the car are giving us weird looks, but at least I can sit down a minute.

"Just like the good old days, huh?" Percy mutters.

All I can manage is a noncommittal "nuh," which is short for "I'm still catching my breath."

There's a loud wrenching crash, and I think the turnstile just went clattering down the stairs. Never mind about paying the fare, I guess.

The people still on the platform yelp about terrorists and hooligans as they jump out of the way of the broken turnstile sliding across the floor. The people in our car keep giving us suspicious looks and semi-politely scooting further away. I don't care; I just want the car to leave before the Telekhines catch up to us.

An annoyed voice comes over the loudspeaker: "_Please stand away from the closing doors_ –"

Percy goes to stand next to the door, which keeps trying to close and then swinging back open; the Telekhines must be holding the doors open at the back of the train. I can hear more of them on the stairs – Percy twirls Riptide (in pen form) through his fingers nervously.

The voice on the loudspeaker repeats its message, and adds that the train is _now departing_ – but the door still isn't closing – I pull myself to my feet to stand next to Percy, but he pushes me away from the door, pressing himself as far away from the line of sight of the Telekhines on the platform as possible, but judging by the excited squeaks a few of them are now making, it doesn't matter, they've seen us –

But finally the door to the car dings closed.

We start to speed out of the station just as the Telekhines arrive at the door to our car. They yap at the window, but we're already moving –Percy tugs me away, out of their line of sight, and as the car sways with motion, then speeds down the tunnel, we look at each other and exhale together.

A mutter of alarm goes through the other passengers, and I wonder how much demon sea dog they were able to see through the Mist.

"It's ok, folks –" Percy says loudly. "We're, uh, stunt doubles – "

"New TV show," I pitch in. "Telekhine Troubles, coming this fall!"

"Only on…"

"NBC," I say, as Percy says "CBS."

"Who watches CBS?" I hiss under my breath, before adding another loud "Only on NBC!"

A few people are still giving us weird looks, but most of them return to their books or phones. We settle in to two seats apart from everyone else.

"Paul watches CBS," Percy mutters to me.

"Yeah, but Paul also sings Billie Holliday in the shower."

"So?"

"So your mom kind of has unusual taste in men, that's all."

"Well, I won't argue with that, but be careful not to tell _her_. This is the F train – " Percy says, around a few coughs as he clears his throat. "We can take it right up to my mom's apartment, hide out there until the Council starts, but we might have to get past a few Telekhines if any of them got on at the last stop –"

"But what are they doing so close to Mount Olympus?" I interrupt. "Shouldn't the guards have –"

"I dunno," he sighs. "But I'm pretty sure they knew the two of us were going to be there."

"Which means that the secret Council of the Gods was not really very secret. And that whoever sent them was after you in particular, or maybe both of us –"

"Probably me."  
>"Yeah, probably," I agree. I pause to think, but Percy coughs again and clears his throat.<p>

"By the way, that was a really good scream of terror, earlier," he says around more coughing. "Definitely Lois Lane-worthy."

"Actually Lois was never much of a screamer. Maybe Mary Jane or Pepper Potts."

"_How_ –" he panted, "do you know so much about comic books anyway?"

"Tim Daly, in my cabin. His grand-dad was Jack Kirby."

"Who?"

"Aw come _on_," I groan. "Jack Kirby?"

"No, I really don't know who that is."

"You gotta be kidding me," I smile, drawing myself up, and he leans back as I prepare my Brief Lecture on Comic Book History in my head for the next two and a half seconds. He has this huge exhilarated grin on his face, which is still completely white, like he's –

Like he's –

Like he's been bleeding profusely from a massive wound in his chest for the last ten minutes, which he only managed to hide from me by pulling on his jacket at an inopportune moment nine minutes ago.

But there are big patches of red on the jacket now, red that has seeped through the thickest North Face fleece that Paul's money can buy. Percy sees me staring and tries to pull his jacket closer, but I push his hands away – I gasp –

"_Percy –_"

"It's fine –"

Blood everywhere, Percy "fine", and Telekhines probably waiting for us at the next stop.

Yep. Just like old times.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: super rushed chapter, sorry! Hope it makes sense. Got two or three more quick chapters I'm almost done with, and then we'll get back in depth as to Annabeth's "problem", I promise. Thanks for being patient!**

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><p>"Percy – Percy –"<p>

He just smiles a little, white in the face, and slumps backwards in his seat, head against the wall. Unconscious. Great. Thanks for the help, Percy.

My hands are shaking as I pull his backpack around and dig through for bandages, or ambrosia, or anything. My own bag only has my wallet and a few personals. Percy packed a ton of helpful-in-a-medical-emergency stuff, like leftover brownies and three different Halo games to take to his Mom's. Wonderful.

The train shudders to a stop at Times, and a whole bunch of people flood off, only to be replaced by about a hundred more, mostly tourists. No Telekhines, luckily. We're starting to attract attention from the new passengers though.

"_Urgh_,is that _blood_?" asks a girl a little older than me, making a face and pointing at Percy like he's a giant beetle.

I ignore her.

"He needs a doctor, honey –"

I huff at them and focus on applying pressure to Percy's chest. "I'm handling it –"

But all the sudden everyone is crowding around, and opinions flood in faster than dumb comments on the New York Times Op-Ed blogs.

"Oh my effing god -"

"Yo girlie, that boy needs some serious 911!"

"He's gonna get blood on the floor –" a kid whines.

The girl from before puts her hand to her mouth and wails, "I'm gonna throw up!"

"There's a hospital only a few blocks from here. You better take a cab –"

"No I'm _fine_!" I snap, wrenching away from all of them.

"She's in shock," someone else says, laying a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, I'll take care of you both –"

"Get _off_ me!" I almost bark, and then I catch sight of the gesture the stranger is making at me.

The claw over the heart.

The ward-off-evil sign that only gods and half-bloods know about.

Who is this guy? He's black, thin, well over six feet tall. He's got a nice but normal face that could belong to just about anyone and doesn't give me any clues as to his demigod heritage, if he has any.

The train slows, and the announcer's voice comes back on: "This is 7th Ave, transfers available to the B, D, and E trains…"

Do I trust this guy? What choice do I have?

"Ok," I say quickly, before anyone else notices the sign.

"Come on, I'll take you," the stranger says, and between us we carry Percy through the packed station, up the stairs, and back on the street, nudging past staring bystanders along the way. I think only the adrenaline coursing through me allows me to hold up my side of the Percy-mobile: my biceps are still so flimsy and useless from sitting around all summer I could never lug Percy anywhere without a shot of fight-or-flight. Besides that, I realize with a small surprise, I haven't eaten anything since dinner last night. Normally I'd congratulate myself on my self-restraint, but I instead I feel sluggish and stupid. If it had crossed my mind that we'd be attacked today, I'd have eaten _something_ for breakfast, no matter what it did to my lovehandles.

Stupid. But too late now.

We get back to street level, and my danger signals are still on high alert, searching for any sign of Telekhines. It's quiet. Well, not _quiet_ quiet, but it's New York quiet, and there are no seadogs.

"Taxi!" the stranger yells, stepping into the street. Percy falls heavily against my shoulder.

"Percy –" I mutter, trying to get him responsive. "Help me…" I wish he'd wake up: I still don't know enough about this stranger to trust him yet – and I'm pretty suspicious of _why_ he happened to show up there in the subway with us, right after we got attacked. Still, we do need help, and the stranger is offering. Anyway, he hasn't tried to kill us yet, which is a good start.

Percy doesn't respond. For a horrible moment, I freeze: I can't tell if his chest is moving anymore. I make my decision. Make sure Percy survives the next half hour, and then figure out who this stranger is. We drag Percy into the backseat of the cab, and I hop in behind him.

"Where to, Miss?" the driver asks.

"Lenox Hill, as fast as you can. It's an emergency."

Seconds later, we load into the cab and race off through midtown traffic. I try to get a read of Percy's pulse, but the cab driver is doing his best Sonic The Hedgehog impression, gunning it through side streets and weaving through tiny lanes with his foot to the pedal. One lurch sends Percy slumping forward, and to my great relief, he starts to cough a bit. Now that I know Percy is still breathing, I turn to the passenger seat to grill the stranger.

But he's not there. He never got in the cab.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: sorry if this is messy! I am super tired right now, but I wanted to get this up today. THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading and reviews! It motivates me to keep going! I'm also looking for recommendations for really cool Percy Jackson fics, so if you guys know of any, pm me or leave it in a review pls!**

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><p>= PERCY'S POV =<p>

I blink awake.

"Andubuth –"

Urgh. I'm feeling fairly undead at the moment. Something thick and heavy is wrapped around my chest, and seemingly around my brain, too. It takes several seconds for me to process what's happening.

"Woah."

I'm lying down in the backseat of some incredibly noisy and metallic black car thing, with the driver's seat on the wrong side. The driver's seat that Annabeth is sitting in. Annabeth is driving.

Annabeth is still only fifteen.

Unless I've been asleep for months, which I guess could be possible, given how I'm feeling,

"Whaderu dung?" I garble at her. _What are you doing_ was what I was trying for, but it's not like it matters. Even if it weren't louder than a noisemaker factory in here, she's got huge aviator style headphones over her ears and she's way too busy with all the levers and dials on the dashboard to notice me. I try to kick her instead. My foot kind of wobbles enough for her to glance back.

"Percy!" she shouts at me.

I clear my throat and sit up a bit. "Where are –"

And then I get my first view of what's just outside the dashboard, and I realize where we are.

Bright sun. Blue sky. Handful of clouds. Skyscrapers just beneath.

"You need to lie down!" Annabeth shouts at me. I stare back.

"ARE YOU DRIVING A HELICOPTER RIGHT NOW!"

It didn't come out as a question, exactly, but I'm too out of it to worry about sentence inflection.

Annabeth yanks the cans off her ears, freeing a few gold locks from her tight ponytail, and shoots me a concerned look. "Just lie back down, the painkillers should be kicking in –"

"I'm not worried about painkillers!" I yell back. "How did we get a _helicopter_ –"

"I had to borrow it to get us to the meeting on time," she explains. "It took over an hour for the ER doctors to stitch you up at the hospital, and then they said they were going to put an IV in you for the next 24 hours to take care of the blood loss – and well, it was already a quarter to five, and they wanted insurance and everything, so I told them to call your mom about it, and then I snuck us both out with the invisibility cap…"

_Is this girl for real?_ I'm suddenly jealous, and I fleetingly wish I had done anything half as badass lately. I can't remember anything past finishing up the Telekhine fight, and wanting very badly to fall asleep on the subway right after. I shift closer to Annabeth, grimacing at the slice of pain that shoots up my chest – apparently the claw cut was deeper than I'd thought.

"So not only did you kidnap an emergency room patient, but you also commandeered a medical helicopter, which you're now flying as an unlicensed minor who has never had a flying lesson?"

She just smiles at the controls. "My dad taught me the basics of flying a long time ago – I mean, it's not my idea of joy-riding, but I can handle this…"

And amazingly, she can. We've been listing to the left for the last two minutes while she talked to me, but she's calmly straightening out now, hands a blur of activity, gaze darting between all the various gauges and levers and occasionally back at me.

"Annabeth," I laugh nervously, "this's amazing and everything, and believe me that I am flat out astonished you pulled it off, but there's one important thing you're forgetting. _I don't fly_."

She winces. "I know, but it's only a few blocks now. We're going to make it."

"Make it to what?"

"To the meeting?" she replies. "Duh?"

_Oh, right. Duh_. I'm blaming it on the painkillers, but I'd totally forgotten what we were even in the city for, and hadn't realized until now where she was planning to park. She's steering for the Empire State.

Because definitely the safest thing for me to do right after violating the Sky God's injunction to _never_ fly _anywhere_ for _any reason_ is to land a stolen helicopter in his back yard. Should be a perfect way to win his support plus the support of all the other gods and goddesses in taking down the monomaniacal Titan of Time before I turn 16.

"Uh, maybe we could just circle the building for a few minutes?" I plead.

She frowns and interrupts me. "We can't be late.

"I'm kinda not psyched about this –"

"It would be really unprofessional."

"Yeah, because what we're doing right now is _totally_ professional, doesn't make us look at _all_ like a couple of underprepared and possibly deranged adolescents with enough serious trauma in our pasts to qualify us for a trip to a mental hospital..." I trail off, and I guess she can see or hear how freaked outI am, because she turns those stern princess eyes right on me – and as my head reruns through all the dozens of times in the last few months that I've hoped Annabeth would just talk to me straight up instead of brushing me off or trying to lecture me or deciding for some gods-only-know reason to yell at me furiously, my fears double in size, certain I'm about to be disappointed again –

Until she says the next words.

"Percy, I'll help you through this, ok? We'll put on a bit of a show for the meeting, but you don't have to pretend with me."

And just like that, I'm not so worried anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: you guys, I don't even know. How much detail do you want me to do about Annabeth's problem? I hate to think I'm triggering anyone or something like that, but I could go into much more detail than I do here. This story could also be straight up adventure stuff and I could leave out the complicated psychological stuff? Do you guys care?**

**Also sorry for the delay posting! I was reading Rosemary's Baby. o_O  
><strong>

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><p>I lean away from the sink, coughing up the last of the cheese pastry I'd gotten from the hospital vending machine. I had needed some quick energy to get Percy and me out of there, but after landing the helicopter on the Mt. Olympus Helipad, my stomach had clenched and I'd had to excuse myself to the bathroom.<p>

Not just my stomach, actually; it was like my whole brain had clenched, and all I could think about was getting rid of what I'd shoved down my throat so eagerly an hour ago. I shudder and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. If I keep eating like that, eating whatever crap junk food I happen to "need" at the time… _Come on, Annabeth_, I chide. _Now is not the time for freaking out_.

I need to make some time sooner or later, though, I think to myself as I steady my hands against the rim of the sink and wait for my heart to stop pounding so hard and fast. I hate this habit, I hate it, but I have to have it if I'm going to get any smaller, and I have to get smaller if I want to help Percy. My mind whirls with objections to this logic, but it's no good: there's a pattern there, one I can't just stop using.

I look at myself in the mirror. Cheeks swollen up a bit, eyes watery and dark. What's happened to me?

I'm just a bad pattern now.

"What's taking so long?" Percy's hand hammered against the door, making me jump about a mile. "I thought it was unprofessional to be late!"

"I'm done, I'm coming," I yell back and wash my hands one more time for good measure, although I've already done so twice. Another bad habit.

* * *

><p>As we make our way up the path to the main hall of the Pantheon, my breathing finally gets back to normal. I still feel light-headed, but I can deal with that. I almost always feel light-headed lately anyway.<p>

I glance over at Percy; he's very quiet, and I'm wondering whether it's because of the Telekhine wound, even though he said it felt fine. I catch his eye and he gives me a strained smile. My heart skips a beat.

Oh _fuuggg._

Did he hear me in there, in the bathroom?

"Looks nice out, doesn't it?" he says, and the clingy shrink-wrap around my nervous system gets a few holes pierced in it. Percy is just small-talking. And he's not sneaky enough to use small-talk for anything except small-talk.

"Oh yeah, beautiful," I say back, hoping I sound light and carefree. But though Mount Olympus is magnificent and imposing, as ever, it doesn't actually strike me as beautiful.

I don't show it, and I'd never admit to it, but I've never liked this place much. Good architecture does its duty: it rounds arches and spills staircases, holds up ceilings and lines up angles. Beautiful architecture gives you something to love, a graceful line even in the midst of chaos. Great architecture should do all of the above. Mount Olympus, in my opinion, is mostly good architecture.

"Ready for this?" I ask Percy when we reach the terribly-overwrought doors to the main throne room. I can hear squirrelly voices and what sounds like bouncing basketballs from inside.

"Let's get it over with," he replies, and we swing the doors open.

The thing about being in a room full of Greek Gods is that it's a lot more like going back to kindergarten than you would expect. Well, imagine you went to kindergarten with like Judy Garland, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Napoleon Bonaparte, Catherine the Great, and Hannibal, plus a bunch of U.S. Presidents or rap stars, plus they're all related, plus they're all at least partially crazy, plus they're all sort of dating around, and that's basically what it's like. Or maybe I just had a really weird kindergarten class.

Anyway, the throne room is a total mess. I don't know where the basketball sounds were coming from, but there's too much going on to try to figure it out. Demeter and Persephone are in one corner, chatting away and weaving a massive wreath out of flax, long grain wheat, and summer roses. Hephaestus is sitting on the ground opposite them with his lame leg drawn up, a crazily complicated schematic on the ground in front of him along with a bunch of vivid Crayola crayons he's using to make annotations. Ares and Aphrodite are huddled in the corner just behind him, doing some kind of freak-dancing and tongue-touching that's so embarrassing to look at that you would think one or the other would find it amazingly awkward, especially during the middle of the day and in full view of their parents/husbands, but neither of them is exhibiting the least bit of restraint. Mr. D. is asleep in his chair. Apollo has a laser gun out and is pretending to shoot everyone in sight, including me and Percy.

"Order, please, come to order…" Zeus says, pounding a small hammer on the _or_- of order. Hera is reclining in her throne at the head of the room, looking at Percy and me like we were a couple of cockroaches with fleas and muddy feet. My Mom and Percy's dad are the only other ones sitting; they're looking around the room with very little expression. Apparently for them all this mayhem is just an everyday Olympian occurrence.

"Can everyone at least takes their seats!" Zeus thunders out.

"No! I'm working my calves!" Hermes pipes from the right of the hall, where he's rising on to his toes then rocking back on his heels. "Not that they _need_ it," he adds with a wink when he catches my eye.

"Everyone including Hermes _sit down_!" Zeus thundered. "I'm giving you to the count of three: one –"

Ares and Aphrodite stop dancing, still making kissy faces at each other across the room, but Apollo keeps shooting his laser gun in their direction. The edge of menace grows stronger in Zeus's eye, and Apollo reluctantly sticks the gun back in his belt holster.

"_Two_…"

Demeter finishes patting her roses into place and perches on her throne at Hera's right. Everyone except Hermes is now seated.

"THREE!"

The room finally goes silent. Every single eye then goes to Hermes, who is on his tiptoes. With everyone watching him, Hermes sinks into his throne, sulkily.

"Now, who are we missing?" Zeus says, pacing through the half-circle, my mind pacing along with him; I had the same feeling like someone was missing, but I can't remember who. Zeus rubs his chin. "Artemis is on special assignment, so she's excused, but I know there's someone else… is it Hebe?"

"You replaced her with Ganymede ages ago," Poseidon reminds him.

"So where is Ganymede?"

My Mom, Athena, rolls her eyes. "You made him a constellation, remember?"

"No!" Zeus huffs at her petulantly. "He was my best personal assistant! I never would have fired him!"

"Yeah but you _did_!" Ares complains. "That was, like, thirty-seven centuries ago!"

"Oh…" Zeus says thoughtfully. "Oh yeah."

I can't believe it. Zeus has the same memory problem I do, and he's supposed to be half of these people's _dad_.

"Is it winter?" he called. "Where the hell is Persephone?"

"Oh, ha ha _ha_…" Demeter says resentfully. Behind her, Persephone shoots Zeus a withering glance.

"I'm right here, and it's August."

"What about Mnemosyne, or Themes?"

"They've been in California for about four hundred years, Zeus," Hera says bitingly. "They aren't part of our set anymore."

"Oh right yeah. Ok, well – hm," he frowns. "I know there's _someone..._ this is giving me a splitting headache…"

"Perhaps I can help you with that?" Hephaestus says with a wicked grin, lining his axe-hammer with one finger.

I blink and glance at Percy. Was Hephaestus offering to put an axe in Zeus's skull? Percy made a quick _yikes_ face back at me. Zeus just rolls on.

"No thank you, Hephaestus, had enough of that the last time. Well, if anyone remembers who's missing, just tell them I'll be hurling my thunderbolt after them until the end of time – this is a _mandatory_ meeting, after all…"

There is a general impatient groan, and someone, it sounded like Apollo, yells "Then let's get on with it!" in a high fake falsetto.

"OK THEN!" Zeus thunders back. Hera puts her hand over her left ear. "First things first! For the benefit of anyone who's been asleep the whole time –" Zeus looked at Apollo, who kicked Mr. D's foot, and Mr. D grumbled awake – "Our guest of honor will explain who he is and why he's bothering us…"

I nudge Percy.

"Oh, uh, right," he says, sounding nervous. "Hi, everyone. I'm Percy. And that's Annabeth."

"I already knew that," Mr. D mutters.

"Wonderful introduction!" Zeus booms. "Now let's get down to real business."

That's it? Percy looks at me, confused. Zeus clears his throat and pounded his hammer once more; I narrow my eyes but say nothing yet.

"So are we all ready? Ok then. Everyone resume play immediately."

The middle of the room started to rumble, and Percy and I sprang back toward the door. A second and a half later, a huge marble table burst from the floor. Across the tabletop were cards, miniature soldiers and horses, and the biggest board game board I had ever seen. I looked at Percy; he looked back with the same _what in Kanye's name is going on _expression. None of the gods or goddesses looked the least bit surprised; they all pulled their cards up in front of their faces and began rifling through them, darting glances at the board and at their neighbor's cards as they did.

I take a slower look. It's Risk. They're playing Risk.

"Resume play immediately," Zeus repeated, scooting his throne up close to the table.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I split this chapter in half, so i<strong>**f you're as confused as Annabeth, that's why...sorry if I missed any grammar/continuity stuff and THANKS AGAIN SO MUCH for reading/reviewing! I could use as much criticism as possible though, so if you read and hate it please post a review letting me know ok? Thanks guys!**


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